Several days had passed since they began training in the valley, yet no clue had surfaced about Hara's power.
Sunlight never touched the ground in that valley. The ancient trees stood tall, their thick leaves intertwining to form a pitch-black canopy. A thin mist always lingered in the air, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.
Branka sat cross-legged on a flat stone, her eyes fixed on her younger brother who was training, trying to balance himself on a massive root. he took a deep breath, exhaling the growing despair in his chest.
Branka:
"It's been days, and we haven't found anything… Maybe your ability is only limited to poison resistance."
Hara leapt down from the root, his breath heavy, his expression still calm.
Hara:
"You saw it yourself when I ate the dragon meat you said was poisonous, and I was fine. But surely, that's not all, right?"
Branka:
"Yes. Dragon meat contains a deadly toxin for most beings, even young demons. But you didn't react at all. That's strange, Hara. Still... it's not enough to draw any real conclusion."
They continued to meditate, hoping to uncover any hidden magic within Hara. But meditation only brought them to emptiness. No spark of power appeared, no wave of energy, no shift in aura. Hara just sat there in the darkness, waiting for something that never came.
Hara:
"This is pointless. I don't feel anything inside me during meditation."
Branka:
"I know. But if it's not magic, then what is it?"
Hara:
"Let's try something real. Let me fight. Maybe my body will reveal something my mind cannot."
Branka:
"You have no magic, Hara. If something goes wrong, you could die."
Hara:
"I'd rather die searching for my strength… than live in the shadow of weakness."
Branka fell silent for a moment. His eyes locked with her brother's. In his calm expression, he saw an unbreakable resolve. Slowly,he nodded.
Branka:
"Fine. But I'll be watching. If you're in danger, I'll step in."
Soon after, Elder Wolf arrived, bringing with him a monster from the valley—a troll, twice the size of a grown man, its skin like stone and its breath foul.
Elder Wolf:
"This is only a weak troll from the valley, but enough to test your endurance."
Branka stood beside a massive tree, watching Hara now face the creature. The air around them grew tense. Without warning, the troll roared and charged at Hara with terrifying speed.
One swing from the troll's massive arm struck Hara's chest, sending him flying into the mud. But without hesitation, Hara stood up again.
Branka:
"That body… it's too strong for a young demon."
The next blow was even more brutal. The troll grabbed and hurled Hara against a giant tree. Thorny bark pierced through his body, ripping open his abdomen. Yet… there was no scream. Hara pushed himself off the tree and stood once more, black blood dripping from his open wounds, but his face remained expressionless.
The battle went on for several hours. Hara never managed to deal a fatal strike to the troll, but astonishingly, he never stopped getting up.
Finally, Branka stepped forward and ended the fight. With a single motion, Elder Wolf sealed the troll within a ring of runes, vanishing it into the mist.
Branka:
"Your body… it was pierced, your bones shattered, your blood nearly drained. But you're still standing. This is no ordinary ability."
Elder Wolf:
"Any regular demon would've died from the first blow. Even a creature without magic would've perished. But you… you recovered swiftly. No spell. No external force."
Branka:
"Regeneration… healing beyond reason. You… you're like the ancient demons. Your power isn't magical, Hara. It's in your body. Immunity, recovery, resilience. Maybe… it's a forgotten bloodline."
He looked toward the dark valley and then said,
Branka:
"I'll return to the palace and look for old texts. Maybe we'll find answers there. You… stay here and keep training."
Hara:
"I'll be waiting, Brother."
Branka turned and vanished into the foggy valley, leaving Hara and Elder Wolf behind in a forest where sunlight would never reach.
The forest, as always, lay in eternal shadow—its canopy so thick that not even a shard of sunlight could break through. A faint mist clung to the trees, curling like pale smoke along the ground. It had been days since Branka left for the Demon King's castle, and Hara had not wasted a single moment. He had thrown himself into relentless combat against the troll, using the creature as both his sparring partner and his test of endurance.
By now, the ground where they fought had become a battlefield—dirt overturned, trees shattered, and rocks stained with blood, mostly Hara's.
Each day, Hara pushed his body beyond its limits. On the first day, he was barely able to stand after a single blow. By the third, he could take multiple hits and still rise. By the fifth, his healing had quickened. Wounds that once needed hours now vanished in minutes. Trolls were simple creatures—strong, furious, and mindless—but this one, despite its strength, was starting to tire.
Hara's regeneration gave him a clear advantage. After each fight, Elder Wolf would seal the troll back in its enchanted cage, allowing Hara to rest while the monster remained starved and bound in silence.
Today, however, something had shifted. The tension in the air was heavier. Hara's eyes were sharper, his body faster.
The troll bellowed as it lunged forward, its massive arms swinging wide like tree trunks caught in a storm. Hara ducked beneath the first swing, his body moving with newfound precision. He rolled under the second, feeling the wind of its passing graze his back.
Without missing a beat, Hara sprinted toward a stone outcrop and leapt atop it, waiting. As the troll turned, roaring, he hefted a large boulder overhead and launched it down onto the creature's face.
The rock cracked against the troll's eye, shattering bone and blinding it on one side. The troll howled in pain and rage, flailing wildly. But Hara didn't retreat—he pressed forward.
"Still standing, you ugly bastard?" Hara muttered through clenched teeth.
The troll grabbed a thick branch from a nearby tree, splintering it into a makeshift club. Though called a "branch," it was nearly two meters long and thick as a man's torso. It swung the weapon with brute force, smashing the earth and trees alike.
Hara narrowly avoided each blow. He moved with growing agility—his footwork light, his breathing controlled. Every dodge, every side-step, was a lesson learned from past beatings.
Then he saw it—a smaller branch nearby, still heavy but narrow enough to wield. He grabbed it, twirling it once to test its weight.
"Let's see how thick your skull really is," he whispered.
He baited the troll, stepping just close enough to be noticed. The monster roared and gave chase. Hara led it back to the boulder—the very one where he had blinded it. Timing everything, he scaled the rock, leapt high into the air, and aimed his club for the troll's head.
But the beast was faster than expected.
The troll's own weapon met him midair with devastating force. It struck Hara square in the side, sending him flying across the clearing. He hit the ground with a crash, rolled, and came to a stop with blood trailing from his lips.
Coughing, grinning through pain, he wiped his mouth. "Hard head, huh? You'll die all the same."
The next few days passed in a blur of combat. Blow after blow. Strategy after strategy. Hara adapted, learning not just how to fight—but how to think while fighting. He read the troll's rage, learned the rhythm of its swings, and turned its strength against it.
Finally, on the ninth day, it happened.
The troll charged, its club raised for a crushing blow. But Hara feinted, dodged left, and spun around. With a roar of his own, he drove his wooden spear—fashioned from a branch—into the side of the troll's neck.
The monster froze. It gurgled, reaching for the shaft protruding from its throat.
Hara drove it deeper, twisting it.
Blood gushed. The troll swayed.
And then it fell.
Dead.
A slow clap echoed from the tree line. Branka stood there, a proud grin on his face. "Well done, little brother," he said, stepping out from the shadows. "You've finally learned how to kill."
Elder Wolf approached, his voice calm. "Where have you been, Lord Branka? You were gone far longer than expected."
"I had matters to settle," Branka replied simply, handing several ancient tomes to Hara. "These books are what I came for. Techniques of the ancient demon kings. You'll study them."
Hara took the books without a word, his eyes still locked on the troll's corpse.
"That creature," Branka continued, "was one of the weakest in this valley. And now you've killed it. That's progress. But you must remember—it was still weak."
Hara nodded slowly. "I know."
Branka placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Then rest. Read. Tomorrow, we begin again."
And so, beneath the eternal shadow of the forest, the young demon prince opened the ancient book and began the next chapter of his brutal awakening.